


you should start running

by Klazoskeksis



Category: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018)
Genre: F/M, Hair-pulling, Humiliation, M/M, Name-Calling, Predator/Prey, Reader has a vagina, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Roleplay, primal kink, some body horror on rupert's part with the hands and such, theres some weird kink roleplay in this so please be mindful if that could be triggering to you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 04:25:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18542218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klazoskeksis/pseuds/Klazoskeksis
Summary: Rupert and his partner decide to play a little just before getting home.(AKA reader gets chased, caught, and fucked roughly in the middle of the woods)





	you should start running

**Author's Note:**

> hey! this could technically be read as very mild consensual nonconsent so like! be careful! and take care!!!  
>  i also didnt fucking beta read this so! go nuts

“Pulling a detour, are we?” 

The soft wash of the evening moonlight installs a sense of calm in you, even as you eye the highlighted features of the large mutant next to you. You stretch your arms behind your back, leaning to the side to properly face him as you stumble amidst the grass of the off-road. “What, are you busy? Got plans?” you ask jokingly, quirking a brow. He chuffs, looking you up and down before glancing out to the even forestry ahead of him. Your curious expression stiffens as you watch his eyes rapidly dart around between the trees, seemingly looking for open space.   
“That’s about a fifteen-minute walk to the abode, would ya say?”  
“Maybe. Why do you ask?”  
He hesitates, pulling a smile as he looks around for signs of other people.   
“And you’ve got your runners on?” his tone carries a playfully sadistic slant that you aren’t sure how to feel about yet.  
“Cut the shit, big guy. Whatcha thinkin?” you ask, compensatingly lighthearted. 

“How do you feel about, say, a three? A four, perhaps, if you think you can handle it?” he asks, and your expression immediately shifts, your adrenaline running already at the idea of the challenge. You stretch your legs, subconsciously preparing yourself for the run. “A lovely ten-count to even the odds, then?” he grins.  
“Whatever floats your boat, old man.” you tease, although your cockiness fades when he all too soon begins counting - his voice loud and clear even as you take off into the woods. For a second, you think about how glad you are to take advantage of the night, the moonlight nicely guiding you through the twists and turns of the shrubbery, before the simple sensation of relief turns into concentrated adrenaline. It’s then that you hear the snapping of twigs behind you, enough distance to breed comfort but loud enough to make you push yourself on faster. The absence of banter instils an evolutionary sense of panic in your brain and your heart, eyes wide and pupils blown like a deer in hunting season.   
You stop when you catch sight of an abandoned cement fireplace set-up, skidding to a halt in favour of whipping around rapidly, trying to get a sense of proximity. Your heart rate spikes at the sound of a wolf whistle from a few paces behind and to the right of you, causing you to panic and duck to the closest mass of bush and bark, tucking up neatly behind it.   
You hold your legs up to your chest, doing your best to calmly breathe through your nose as you watch them quiver with unreleased energy. Somewhere behind you, you can hear the faint sound of pig snorts - as though he were sniffing around for you. Your head pounds and you have to blink forcefully a few times just to avoid sight spots, but above all, you’re worried about when the right time to bolt is. 

“Aw, only halfway there and already resorting to hide and seek? Where’s the thrill in that?” Rupert teases, sounding a fair distance away. “Perfectly useless effort, love. Can already smell how excited your c-” you waste no time in running out from your hiding place, bolting past trees like a bat out of hell. Behind you, you’re sure you can vaguely hear a frustrated huff.   
A sense of hope dances through your chest at the sound of your feet thudding beneath you, almost ensuring your escape. The feeling is lost when you trip over a tree root, sending you flying violently into a small clearing of grass - limbs skidding haphazardly and panic setting in fast. “Fuck, fuck, fuck . . .!” you mumble to yourself, legs uselessly retreating towards your body, giving you an eyeful of the dirt and mild scrapes painted across your knees. 

“Not your best run yet,” Rupert chides, stepping over the tangle of tree roots with a sense of knowing that almost makes you embarrassed. “But of course I appreciate the enthusiasm.” he smirks, stepping forward before dropping to his knees before you, sat neatly between your shins as you stare up at him, gasping for air.   
You watch his eyes dart to your scraped up legs, and you can tell the atmosphere subsides for a moment. “You alright?” he asks, and you know he means it. You nod, biting your lip. He leans down to you for a moment, and while you expect something rough, he instead takes a moment to gently move some of your hair out of your face. “Trust me, we’ll run a nice bath when we get home, yeah?” he whispers, as though afraid to break character to an unseen audience. You nod with a smile, and then you feel the firm grip of his gloved hand at your hip. Your eyes trail downwards and then back up to his face, biting your lip once more as a sign of confirmation.   
As soon as he knows you’re okay, his expression darkens, rough hands grabbing at your waist and pulling you into his lap. You groan at the prodding warmth you’re met with, head falling back against the grass.   
“Certainly not your best run . . . but maybe you didn’t want to get away, hmm?” you whimper as one glove comes unclasped, amorphous sprawling hand quick to tug away at the buttons of your shorts. The first button audibly pops undone in no time flat, the second taking him a moment to work on. It’s still only a second later that he’s guiding your legs straight upwards in a shameful display, dragging the garment up and off unceremoniously. “That’s better, innit?” he coos, slowly guiding your legs wide open, gripping at the backs of your thighs.   
You shiver, feeling all too exposed. You can feel the press of his cock against your panties all too well, and for a moment you wonder just how much energy he’s trying to put into theatrics. “This doesn’t feel like a three or a four, y-you know that?” you stutter, looking up at him through lowered lashes.  
He stops for a moment, as though pondering your statement. The next thing, he’s shifting to hover over you properly, still-gloved hand grabbing hold of each of your wrists and pinning them above your head. You’re stuck looking up at his face, unable to watch as his other appendage sneaks between the two of you, tentacle-like segments toying with the hem of your underwear. “You’re right - it doesn’t, does it?” he asks rhetorically, revelling in the sound of your gasp when he blindly tears the fabric from your body - the sound of the garment being torn almost obscene by itself. A warm, inhuman digit ghosts along your slit, just barely touching you. “How’s this, you floozy? Feeling better about the turn of things?”   
You meekly nod, arms struggling under his cold grasp. He curiously smiles, playing with you in his other hand. He unceremoniously slips a finger into you, leaning down to soak up your moans in a messy, open-mouthed kiss. He groans a slight laugh against your mouth when you’re the one that instigates the tongue fight, despite everything. You grin back against him, huffing a playful, breathless giggle when he pulls away.   
His digit pumps into you steady and deep for a few moments before he pulls away completely, impatiently opting to pull his cock out. He degradingly bumps his hips back up against yours, erection prodding at your inner thigh as he reaches forward to slip his slick finger past your lips, prompting you to lap the taste of your own cum from his skin. You breathe steadily through your nose, concentrating simply on the digit inside of your mouth while he shifts to grind his sex against the wet of your cunt.   
You moan around the digit in your mouth when he angles his hips back and slips inside of you, thankful for the gentle rocking that he considerately remembers not to skip.   
“Mmmh, wish you could see yourself right now; see the wonderful little mess I’ve caught for myself.” he grinds his teeth slightly as he slowly manages to bury himself inside you. He removes his fingers from your mouth in favour of gently smoothing them over your front, effectively making a mess of you with your own saliva, before his hand finds home at your waist.   
“If you don’t hurry up and fuck me, I have a feeling this wonderful little mess might just clean itself up out of impatience.”

His expression is almost that of a frown, though from banter or concentration you aren’t sure. Either way, you opt to focus on the way he slowly pulls out from you before thrusting back in with a harsh pace, exposed skin obscenely slapping against exposed skin.   
You keen at the force, squirming beneath him. Your eyes fall closed as you turn your head to the side, trying to grasp a moment of clarity amidst yourself - although your partner seems to find distaste in the notion, his hand abruptly releasing your wrists in favour of grasping your hair and forcing you to look up at him. You gasp a bit at the sudden tug, but your expression softens quickly as the two of you stare at each other for a moment - Rupert seemingly enamoured with the way you’ve adaptively started to whimper and moan with his movements. His grip tightens slightly in response.  
“Aww, no snarky comments to share this time?” he teases, quickening his pace until you begin to shift embarrassingly under his force. Your hands twitch aimlessly before shakily reaching to rest on each of Rupert’s arms respectively, gripping only slightly to keep yourself grounded.   
“Please, please,” you whimper, before crying out as he angles perfectly against your sweet spot. He slows for a moment, as though letting your begging process in his mind, before his grip on your hair gradually softens until he’s finally let go, hands instead of reaching under you to gently lift you up and into his lap - essentially pulling you into a hug in the process as he leans back.   
You pant slightly at the change of pace, but are snapped back into a fit of moans and cries when he begins to fuck you again in earnest, his face screwed up in complete concentration.  
You cum before he does almost by chance, your body twitching roughly against him in your ecstasy, slow and hard thrusts riding you through your orgasm before he eventually slows to a complete stop, cock twitching inside of you.  
Slightly dizzy and extremely tired, you listen to him groan - an odd amalgamation of a growl and a subdued whimper - before he gasps sharply, filling you with his cum. You bite your lip at the vague warmth of him, shivering when you suddenly feel it running down your legs.  
He’s breathing deeply as he tries to keep himself collected, reaching up with his gloved hand to gently play with your hair.

“You lose your edge towards the end, darlin’?’ you smile, looking up at him dreamily.  
“Not possible, I’m afraid.” he replies, jokingly flicking your forehead with his free hand.


End file.
